Chapter 7 I want you to meet my son.

Milano lifted his gaze from his computer and quirked his eyebrows. “Didn’t I send you to get me those documents from Milano Group headquarters?”

“I told the courier to do it,” Zoe said. “You know, the guy whose job it actually is.”

Milano gave her a look that conveyed exactly what he thought of her impudence.

But Zoe just gave him an innocent one. “Is there a problem?” Come on, fire me.

Milano didn’t fire her. Milano cocked his head to the side slightly, still looking at her with that unreadable, intense gaze of his. Staring. Again.

Zoe drew in a deep breath. “Look, what do you want from me? What’s up with all the weird staring? Do you want me to suck your cock or something?”

Milano blinked before giving her a look of exasperation. “No, thanks. I don’t want you to suck my cock. It's just....”

Well, that was… a relief. 

“Now I’m even more confused,” Zoe said, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “What’s up with all the staring, then?

Milano sagged back in his seat, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been observing you, that’s all. I have an idea, and I’m still not sure whether it’s a good one or not.”

“What idea?” Zoe said, walking closer to the desk before dropping herself into the chair opposite Milano’s without being invited to. And pretended not to see her boss’s unimpressed stare. “Well?”

Milano averted his gaze before looking back at her. “Are you aware that I have a son?”

Zoe just nodded, waiting for an explanation.

“A year ago, he went through a… traumatic experience,” Milano said in a stilted voice. “Since then, he’s been very skittish, avoiding all social interactions. He’s… difficult. I think he’s scared of people.”

Zoe frowned. “You think? You don’t know for sure? You can’t ask your son?” As far as she remembered, Milano’s son was three.

Zoe was far from being an expert on children, but she was pretty sure three-year-olds talked reasonably well. At least her nephews had at that age.

Milano glared at her. “He doesn’t speak yet.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Milano’s glare intensified, as if he wanted nothing more than to disintegrate her right there and then. “He’s a healthy child; all the doctors say so. They think it’s a psychological barrier, not anything serious.”

Zoe nodded and finally asked about the elephant in the room. “Why are you telling me this?” She had an idea and she really hoped she was wrong.

“You look like my ex-wife,” Milano said tersely.  “Maybe seeing you will help my son overcome whatever mental block he has.”

So much for that hope.

“Why don’t you just ask his mother?” Zoe said with a pinched look. “The person the kid probably misses?”

Milano’s face became blank. “That’s impossible.”

“Why not? Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Then why not? Don’t you think your kid’s health is more important than whatever issues you have with your ex-wife?”

The look Milano shot her was positively withering. “You’re forgetting yourself. It’s none of your business.”

Zoe met his gaze calmly. “You’re kind of making it my business,” she said. “If you want me to help you, you should actually answer my questions instead of being a tight-lipped prat.”

“She’s in a rehab center now. Heroin addiction.”

Oh.

“That… sorry..,” Zoe said uncomfortably. “How long is she going to stay in rehab?”

Milano shrugged. “Her addiction is serious, and I’ve been told she’ll need long-term care. I don’t know the exact time frame. She isn’t my problem anymore.”

Nice.

But Zoe told herself not to judge the guy too much. Addiction was very hard on one’s family. 

“Is that why you have custody of your son?” Zoe said. “Isn’t it… cruel to take her son away too while she’s fighting her drug addiction?”

Something ugly and bitter flickered across Milano’s face, his eyes cold as ice. “Considering that she tried to use her own son to cajole more money out of me for her drugs, and abandoned him in an unfamiliar place for days while she was high as a kite, no, I don’t feel very sorry for her.”

Zoe squirmed a little in her seat. Although Milano’s anger wasn’t directed at her, it still felt like a force, something cold and vicious. Suddenly, she felt sorry for the guy’s ex-wife. Being the focus of such intense anger and hatred must have been more than a little frightening. 

“So, you want me to do what, exactly?” Zoe said, changing the uncomfortable subject to one that was only slightly less uncomfortable. “To meet your son? How do you even know that would work?”

“I don’t,” Milano said. He didn’t say anything else, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Zoe bit her bottom lip, realizing what the other man wasn’t saying: that they had nothing to lose and Milano was desperate enough to try anything at this point. Maybe the guy did have a heart, after all.

“You said your son was difficult,” Zoe said. “In what way?”

Milano averted his gaze. “He doesn’t talk. He goes into hysterics whenever he’s taken out of the house. He’s not much for physical contact. He cries a lot, and he doesn’t sleep well. He’s scared of loud noises and most people, me included. The doctors say Liam has some autism symptoms, but they’re not major enough to affect his behavior so drastically. They think he suffered some kind of psychological trauma while his mother had him after we split up. I got my son back as soon as I was able to prove that she was unfit to care for him, but it was too late at that point.”

Fucking hell.

“How old was he?” Zoe said. 

“He was a year and ten months old,” Milano said tonelessly. “He was a normal enough child until then. He had just started talking when it happened.”

“And you think seeing someone who looks like his mother will help him? Really?”

Milano shrugged. “I’ve spoken to his pediatrician. She thinks it’s worth a try. It can’t hurt, in any case. We’ve been waiting for improvement for over a year, but he isn’t getting better, no matter what we do. The doctors are afraid that Liam will be very behind his peers in development if he doesn’t start showing signs of improvement soon.”

Zoe frowned. “But does he even remember his mother?” Did kids that young remember stuff?

“She was his mother,” Milano said in a clipped voice. “I’ve been told even small children remember their mothers better than anything. Even if he doesn’t remember her well, seeing you might destroy whatever psychological block he has after she abandoned him.”

“Or it might make it worse,” Zoe said, not unkindly.

Milano gave a curt nod. “There’s always a risk.”

Zoe sighed. “Well, when are you going to take me to see him, then?”

Blue eyes bored into her. “You will do it?”

Zoe nodded. “I don’t know much about kids, but I’m not heartless. If seeing me might help the kid, of course I’ll do what I can. It’s worth a try, even if I’m not at all sure it’ll help.” She shrugged slightly. “I don’t look like your ex-wife as much as you seem to think.”

“You don’t,” Milano agreed, to her surprise. “But at first glance, you look startlingly like her, enough to fool the hazy memory of a small child. That’s what we want: a strong reaction from Liam, something to break him out of his shell. He showed some reaction to Regina’s pictures, so seeing you in the flesh might have the desired effect.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, despite her misgivings. She got to her feet. “When are we leaving?”

As they got into the back of Milano’s car and Milano ordered his driver to drive them home, Zoe looked out the window, pretending not to notice Milano’s intent eyes on her face.

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